


Run, Derek, Run.

by the_nerdy_brunette



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Human!Derek, Lots of sobs, M/M, Sadness, Song fic, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nerdy_brunette/pseuds/the_nerdy_brunette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A song fic spin off from the song "Run, Joey, Run".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run, Derek, Run.

**Author's Note:**

> So I was listening to my Sterek Spotify playlist, and the song "Run, Joey, Run" sung by the amazing Glee cast (no hate!) came on, prompting this! Hopefully you cry. If you don't, then tell me because I obviously suck at writing sadness!
> 
> ONTO THE STORY!

“Dad! Dad, just calm down. Okay?” Stiles says, holding his hands in front of him towards the sheriff in what is supposed to be a calming motion. But it seems to have the opposite effect because his drunk father throws the bottle of Jack against the wall near Stiles, far enough away that it can’t hurt him. The teen flinches and closes his eyes tightly, and the feeling of tears prick the back of his eyes. “It wasn’t his fault. He was-“

“Like hell it wasn’t! He hurt you, Stiles! He’s going to pay for this.” Sheriff Stilinski begins to move where he kept his shotgun, grabbing it up and looking to see how many shells were in it.

Stiles shakes his head quickly and hard, tears finding a way to fall down his face. “No,” his voice breaks when he speaks. “He didn’t mean to, Dad! You can’t do this!” The sheriff ignores him as he opens the door, but Stilesrushes forward and grabs his arm. “Please, Dad! Please! I love him. Don’t do this. I  _love_  him!”

The sheriff whirls around hard and pushes Stiles off of him. The motion leads to the father’s elbow connecting with his son’s cheekbone just under his right eye. The skin split open from the impact. A thin trickle of blood falls down the pale skin, a stark contrast of each other. Almost like the time that Stiles wore his red hoodie out to the Hale mansion and fell asleep in the snow as he waited for Derek to get home from wherever he was. Or strawberries that splattered against Derek’s Uncle Peter’s white shirt when he walked in on Derek and Stile’s fruit fight. Or the colors of the too small lacrosse jersey Derek wore that had Stilinski on the back of it to support his boyfriend. 

Stiles hand shakily comes up to wipe at the blood in shock, and the older man’s eyes widen in shock for a moment before his face turns hard again. “Stay in the goddamn house, Stiles.” And with that, he left, slamming the front door behind him. 

* * *

 

Derek just climbs into his bed after his shower when the song “Little Red Riding Hood” from the movie with the same title began to play from his phone, he knows Stiles is calling him. Derek still doesn’t understand while his boyfriend has it set to that song, something about red hoodies and growling boyfriends. He reaches over and presses answer.

“Hey! What’s up, ba-“

“Derek.” The twenty-three year old jerks forward at the sound of the boy he loves’s sobs coming through his earpiece. “I know you were going to come over later, but  _don’t_. Don’t come over. My dad and I just had a fight about how I busted my lip. I tried telling him it wasn’t your fault, but he wouldn’t listen and he’s drunk. Oh, God, he’s so drunk, Derek. He stormed out the door, Derek.” Stiles pauses to try and breathe, but it doesn’t work because he’s sobbing so hard.

Derek is already standing up and trying to pull a pair of jeans on while still listening to Stiles. “Stiles, calm down. I need you to calm down and breathe, okay? You’re going to have a panic attack if you don’t  _calm down_.”

Stiles’ breathing sounds like it slows through the phone, but Derek can’t be sure because the hyperactive teen is talking rapidly again as the young man grabs his car keys. “I’ve never seen him act like this. Not even after my mom’s death. My God, he’s going crazy isn’t he? He said he’s going to make you pay, Derek. He grabbed his shotgun, for Christ’s sake! You’ve got to run. Get out of town, just go, Derek!”

“I’m coming to get you, Stiles. Lock the doors, go grab another one of his guns, call one of the deputies if you have to. I’ll be there soon.” And before Stiles could protest, Derek hangs up the phone and starts the car.

* * *

 

Stiles is standing in front of the front door with one of his dad’s hunting rifles when a pair of headlights shines through the windows. He peaks behind the curtain to see Derek climbing out of his car and starting to run towards the front door. Stile throws it open so Derek can come inside, and once he does he throws his arms around Stiles.

“Are you, okay?” He asks, then goes stock still when he sees the cut on the pale skin. His hand raises up so he can run a finger on it. Derek’s face morphs into one of anger. “Did he do this to you? Did he?!” Stiles flinches when he yells, only because he knows that Derek is upset that someone hurt him and not from the fear that Derek would hurt him himself. 

Stiles’ eyes watered slightly, looking everywhere except at Derek. Just when he was about to answer, those beautiful amber eyes landed right on the barrel of a shotgun pointed at Derek’s back through the still open front door.

“Derek!” Stiles yells, pushing his boyfriend out of the way just as a shot rings out through the air. He makes a choked noise as the rifle drops from his hands. Both of his bony hands come to clutch at his stomach. Hands that used to ghost over Derek before they were actually allowed to touch him. Hands that fit perfectly into Derek’s. Hands that would trace patterns on Derek’s tan skin. Hands that drew those little whimpering noises as they ran over the expanse of bare skin. Hands that ran through his hair lightly while the both of them came down from their ecstasy highs.

But now those hands are clutching at his stomach and red is seeping between them. Derek lets out a cry before moving to catch Stiles before he collapses. He pulls the frail boy into his arms as tears run down his face.

“Stiles. Stiles. Look at me. Don’t close your eyes! Look at me, Stiles, goddammit!” Derek is sobbing now, trying not to look at all of the blood because there is just so much blood. It covers his hands and is pooling into a puddle on the floor. “You can’t leave me. Not you, too. Please, not you, too, Stiles.”

The teenager’s eyes flutter slightly, but they still look up at the man holding him. His breathing is short and uneven, little puffs, and a small smile comes to his face. Something moving behind Derek catches those amber eyes’ attention, and Derek turns to see what it is.

The sheriff has tears running down his face, and he looks like he is in shock of what he has done, suddenly shockingly sober. 

“Please don’t hurt him, Dad. It wasn’t his fault. Don’t hurt him. I love him..” Derek looks back down at the boy in his arms, sobbing harder at his words. “He means so much to me. Daddy, please… Don’t.. Hu-“.

Stiles doesn’t finish getting out the word. He lets out a hard breath before his chest stops rising and falling all together. Those beautiful amber eyes that use to be so full of light and joy are now glassy and cold. They stare up into nothingness whereas they used to be able to see straight into someone’s soul. 

Derek shakes his head as the dam seems to break completely. “No. Stiles. Stiles. Please. _Stiles_! Oh, my God. Stiles.” The young man buries his face into the crook of pale skinned neck and sobs Stiles’ name over and over and  _over_  again. Because the boy he loves is dead. Dead just like his mom and his dad and his aunts and brothers and sister and cousins. 

He thinks of the small box sitting on his dresser back at home, and that causes his body to shake harder at the thought of it. Just the thought of that little box. That box that was black and velvet lined and had a band of gold in it. That box that he was going to open in front of Stiles after getting down on one knee. That box that he was going to use to propose to him with. 

But now he can’t.

Derek can’t because Stiles has just died in his arms.

_Run , Derek, Run._

_Derek, Run, Derek._

_Run , Derek,  **Run.**_


End file.
